


here we are once again

by ddramallama



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:54:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29641239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddramallama/pseuds/ddramallama
Summary: "Hello, Triss."Perhaps it had been the adrenaline still coursing through her veins after dealing with the guards, or maybe it was her own blasted ears playing tricks on her; either way, Triss could have sworn there was a hint of emotion seeping into Philippa's voice. Exhaustion causing words to crack and rumble as they slithered up her throat and passed her lips. Bared shoulders holding themselves up by sheer stubbornness alone, Philippa's ingrained sense of control wared down to its last defence.
Relationships: Philippa Eilhart/Triss Merigold
Kudos: 19





	here we are once again

**Author's Note:**

> This is simply a self-indulgent take on the scene in Wild Hunt after Geralt meets Philippa in the bath house.
> 
> I have only played Wild Hunt and watched the series. So I apologise if the characters appear ooc. Hopefully when I read the books I'll get a little better with references and personalities.
> 
> None of these characters belong to me

"Hello, Triss." 

Perhaps it had been the adrenaline still coursing through her veins after dealing with the guards, or maybe it was her blasted ears playing tricks on her; either way, Triss could have sworn there was a hint of emotion seeping into Philippa's voice. Exhaustion causing words to crack and crumble as they slithered up her throat and passed her lips. Bared shoulders holding themselves up by sheer stubbornness alone, Philippa's ingrained sense of control wared down to its last defence. 

Triss could feel the muscles of her heart tighten, a small part of herself hoping that it didn't show in her eyes for she knew that in its current state, no favours would come of it. Philippa was clearly on edge from all that had transpired, and Geralt's silent presence beside her not helping in that matter.

"Are you alright?" She asks upon approach, eager fingers twitching forward before she gets ahold of herself. All she wishes to do is take Philippa's hand and leave the dreadful humidity of the bathhouse; return to the safety of the Chameleon and away from the ever-watchful streets of Novigrad.

Philippa, always with the careful choice of wording, regards her with a moment of hesitation. "I've been better," she forces out as a reply, honesty ladled with a strain that has Triss pausing long enough for Geralt's gaze to twitch back to her. His eyes asking everything and nothing all at once.

Triss doesn't respond to his silent search. Not when she can feel the magic aiding Philippa's own sight keeping her locked in. "I'll get you out of here," she promises, internally hoping that the journey back comes with no interference. 

"Gonna be alright?" Geralt questions, the appearance of his voice finally catching Triss' attention.

"Yeah," she urges, hoping that this will be the last of it, "thanks for your help." 

* * *

Portaling back serves them well, the wooden floor of Triss' room within the Chameleon creaking upon their arrival. The glow from candlelight easy on the eyes as it casts soft shadows across their bodies.

"I must admit," Philippa begins as soon as the portal dissipates, "I am surprised you didn't kiss your little Witcher goodbye." It seems paranoia still clings to her muscles even now, the golden glow from her blindfold snapping to every piece of furniture, every nook and cranny; seeming to already suspect that Radovid could be lurking within the darkness. 

Triss tries to not let her offence show, but if the twitch of Philippa's lips is anything to go by, she obviously fails. "Geralt and I have parted," she states, arms crossing just like Tissaia De Vries would when she wanted to get a point across. As if her pointed stare and stinging words were not enough on their own. 

The sharp twitch of Philippa's lips only enrages her more, old habits involving emotions waiting just beneath her skin, ready to be unleashed. "I couldn't continue to hurt him, to hurt them _both_."

Yennefer's name hangs heavy in the dimly lit room. The scoff coming from Philippa's lips being the first to break it.

"Well, it matters little to me," the older sorcerer begins; Triss watching with weary eyes as she approaches closer. "Are you certain that blubbering idiot that calls himself a bard has everything taken care of?"

Triss blinks, using the time to recollect herself. Philippa has always raged havoc on her emotions with tremendous ease. "Yes," she presses, wanting to aid Philippa's nerves despite herself, "Dandelion and Zoltan have everything under control." 

"I doubt it," comes the snappy remark, her behaviour contradicting herself by relaxing slightly. It makes Triss' heartache all over again, knowing some of the things Philippa has had to go through during their time apart.

It makes her reach out, but unlike before she does not stop herself; warmth caressing her fingers as they trace Philippa's bare shoulder. Her eyes searching the purposely blank features of her face.

Philippa wasn't one to condone physical touch if she didn't wish for it, but that didn't stop Triss from wishing to be careful in case she tripped over a wire keeping everything together. Because the last thing she wanted was to set off the already paranoid woman.

"How about you get some rest," she whispers into the quiet between them. Her fingers following the column of Philippa's neck before they rest at her jaw, delicate pads grazing the bone with small strokes. 

Philippa doesn't lean into the caress, does nothing but stand there and watch. The glow from her blindfold nothing compared to the piercing stare she was once known for; and yet Triss feels it all the same. Just like the first time they locked eyes all those years ago, already under a spell without a hint of magic.

For a moment Triss reminisces times that seem long passed, back when she wasn't being openly hunted and her biggest struggles were the politics of a ruling king. Her mind wanders through her life; from her time at Aretuza to now, and how Philippa had managed to always be involved somehow. Like two orbiting sun's that had yet to collide. 

She's startled out of it by Philippa's sigh, her hand reaching up to stop Triss' own, removing it from her face before taking a step back. "Perhaps you are right," she admits, leaving Triss to remember her earlier inquiry of rest. Her head dipping into a short nod as she attempts to wrestle the sudden longing hanging in her chest.

"Of course," she forces through her smile. Something that very quickly disappears with the raise of Philippa's eyebrow; it's interpretation lost on her as she assumes it as an order to leave. "I'll just be --" her hurried steps thwarted by the other's voice.

"By the God's, I am not about to evict you from your own room." Another sigh leaves the older woman's lips, only this time its more exasperation than anything else; leaving Triss to feel the prickling of embarrassment just like she did during the earlier stages of their relationship.

Noticing the trepidation practically emanating from her fellow sorcerers, Philippa decides to take a different approach. Her hands reaching up to remove her blindfold, "I am getting tired of needing my magic to see. I would rather you stay and therefore be my eyes."

Philippa doesn't let the statement hang in the air for long, her hand raising to rid herself of her dress and baring her naked body for no one but Triss to see. Cornflour eyes sweeping across the smooth skin before she removes her own clothing. Philippa's head turning towards her when she heard the wooden floorboards creek upon her approach.

The beginnings of tears began forming in her eyes as she reached up to cup Philippa's face with both her hands, her touch once again being allowed for only a short moment before Philippa's voice broke through. "You're crying, aren't you?"

A sniff becomes her answer, followed by a watery apology that has the older woman sighing for the third time since arriving. Her forehead bumping gently into Triss' in an act of comfort right before a single muffled sob breaks free. The lack of control forcing Triss to hide in the crook of her neck as she tried to regain the rapidly falling pieces. 

"Come," Philippa commands, reaching up to take one of the trembling hands still caressing her cheek before taking a careful step towards where she remembered the bed to be. The wooden frame easily meeting her leg and allowing her to pull the crying woman down onto its mattress along with her. The muscles of her back finally allowed a moment to relax.

Triss allows herself to follow the direction, the last if her tears still clinging to her eyelashes as she moulds herself to Philippa's body. Throat constricting around the words she forces out, "Yenna is planning on breaking Rita out of Deireadh prison."

The information is met with silence, Philippa's hand weaving itself into Triss' hair as she thinks of its chances. "They will be extremely lucky to get inside, let alone retrieve Margarita alive."

While the truth, it still makes her heart ache at hearing it. "I know," she whispers, reaching out to retrieve the covers and pulling them over their bodies. 

The sounds from below were loud despite the early morning, Dandelions voice filtering through it all. But as she lay there, with her head on Philippa's chest and the deep drum of her heart seeming to resonate into her very own; Triss could close her eyes and dream of pleasant nights back into Montecalvo.

**Author's Note:**

> This was rusty af yikes


End file.
